


A Chapter in Their Career

by Kate_Marley



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Formula 1, Formula 1 AU, Formula One, Human AU, M/M, car racing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2019-01-04 22:32:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12177807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kate_Marley/pseuds/Kate_Marley
Summary: As a race engineer, Roderich Edelstein is the right hand of Formula 1 driver Antonio Fernández Carriedo. Roderich works hard to ensure Antonio is able to make the most of his car at all times. With rivals who never rest and up-to-date technical gadgets that aren’t always reliable, theirs is a demanding job. Being hopelessly in love with each other doesn’t make things easier.





	A Chapter in Their Career

**Author's Note:**

  * For [salytierra (octavaluna)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/octavaluna/gifts).



_“I’m getting closer to Bonnefoy, but the motor sounds strange,”_ Roderich heard Antonio’s voice over the pit to car radio.

“Need to check, but you go on. It’s only three laps,” he told his driver, closing the voice channel in order to consult with the data engineers of their team. Roderich was moderately worried. Antonio and him both knew three laps could be a very long time if something serious was wrong with the car.

 _“The motor, right?”_ was the first thing Eduard von Bock, one of the data engineers, told him.

“I don’t like the sound of that.” The race engineer instinctively pulled a face, even if Eduard couldn’t see that.

 _“Yeah,”_ Eduard said. _“About that. The bad news is I can’t tell you what exactly is wrong with the motor at this point. All I know is it’s got something to do with the ERS and it’s making the motor overheat rather quickly.”_ ERS was short for Energy Recovery System, a system whose purpose it was to retract energy from a car’s exhaust gas stream. _“He should switch that one off.”_

“Try switching the ERS off,” Roderich told Antonio as soon as he had him on the radio again. “The motor is overheating because of it, but we don’t know why.”

There was a short pause in the channel.

_“Well, fuck.”_

“You can’t switch it off?”

_“I can’t do anything about the motor.”_

Roderich swallowed a few swearwords of his own. They were so close to the finish, on position two with one car and on position five with the other, and now technical problems ensued.

“Okay, then focus on completing this race and don’t risk anything.” Unsatisfying as it was, it was the only thing he could tell his driver right now. Of course they would analyse the problem as soon as both Antonio’s and Jan’s car were back in the box. At least Jan, the second driver of their team, appeared to be doing all right. As long as a car was on the circuit, however, there wasn’t much they could do if the motor didn’t behave in the way it was supposed to.

The following minutes were among the longest in Roderich’s life, and he knew this was even truer for Antonio. Had he been a nail biter, that would have been the moment in which he’d have resorted to that bad habit. The way it was, he only grit his teeth and pressed his lips together, watching the video coverage of the race while listening to a multitude of pieces of information over the team radio and ever more worrying status reports on the motor.

It was almost anticlimactic when it happened. During a straight passage, Antonio’s motor simply stopped working, even allowing him to steer his car to the side before it came to a halt.

_During the final lap. On position two._

Roderich could hear swearing from Antonio over the pit to car radio. His own feelings were crushing disappointment rather than anything else, but there was no way he could allow his emotions to rule him now. Antonio was a very good and reliable driver, but he had a hard time dealing with disappointments that weren’t his fault. And in many cases, a motor that didn’t survive a race was not the driver’s fault.

Knowing Antonio very well by this point, Roderich left the pit as soon as the race was over, not even waiting to congratulate Jan for his fourth place. A final glance at the live coverage told him that Antonio had left his car by now. He was leaning against the wall separating the start and finishing straight from the pit lane, helmet next to him in the grass, arms crossed over his knee. Roderich walked up to him, ignoring the people running to and fro and the reporters who tried to get an interview from a driver or a team leader.

“Go away, Rode,” Antonio mumbled as soon as Roderich was close.

“No.” He flopped down in the grass beside the disappointed driver.

“I don’t want to hear anything.”

“I’m not saying anything.”

“But you will! How this is not my fault. How it wasn’t my fault I was kicked out of the race by that crash in Australia, and how my car getting hit by debris from that crash in Canada wasn’t my fault either.” He ran his hand through his hair. “It may not have been my fault, but in the end, it’s only the result that counts. And the result is that _I didn’t complete three races this season so far,_ no matter the reasons.”

“There’s still half the season ahead of you,” Roderich pointed out. He attempted to speak soothingly. Sometimes it worked; other times, it only made Antonio more aggressive. “As time goes on, the others will have problems, too. Even Bonnefoy and Adnan. You can still win.” Francis Bonnefoy and Sadık Adnan were the drivers of their major competitor, with Bonnefoy currently on position 1 and Adnan on position 3 in this year’s driver’s championship.

This time, Roderich’s words seemed to have a calming effect. Antonio sighed.

“You know what I’d really like to do now?”

Roderich blinked, waiting for an answer. Antonio covered his mouth with an arm, taking precautions so no lip-reader could figure out what he was saying. There were cameras everywhere, and many things were treated as secrets by the teams.

This wasn’t one of them.

“I’d like to rest my head in your lap and have you pet my hair.”

There was a moment’s silence in which Roderich needed to recover from a sudden impulse to hug Antonio.

“We’ll get to that,” he replied. They would indeed. Roderich’s parents lived close to the circuit at Spielberg, Austria, and they didn’t ask questions when he invited a person over to stay whom the media had called “one of his closest friends” more than once.

Of course his parents knew what was up, but the good thing about Formula 1 was that it was pretty normal for a team to stick closely together for most of the year. No one batted an eyelash when a race engineer, as the person working closest with a driver, requested adjacent hotel rooms for last-minute discussions. No one was surprised when race engineers and drivers appeared at the factory together, even if it was a little unusual for a driver to focus this much on the manufacturing of his car. Then again, there were many drivers who were car enthusiasts in general, and Antonio was one of them. Hell, no one even became suspicious when a driver and a race engineer _went on holiday together!_ Booking adjacent rooms, it went without saying.

Sometime towards the beginning of their relationship, they had considered coming out together, only to discard the idea quickly. Both Roderich and Antonio considered themselves bisexual, and the risk to their career, Antonio’s in particular, outweighed all advantages of being open about a potentially short relationship.

They were together for five years now, and Antonio continued to bring that topic up from time to time. It was Roderich’s part to dissuade him from the idea, taking care to act in a driver’s best intentions even when he wasn’t on duty.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Roderich remembered the beginnings of their relationship as if it had started only yesterday. They had been elevated from data to race engineer and from test to regular driver almost at the same time; two ambitious and enthusiastic young men whose aim it was to have the world of Formula 1 racing at their feet. Roderich was the reserved and level-headed part of their alliance and Antonio was the one who carried the audience and the reporters along with his impressive driving skills and warm-hearted personality.

Soon, Roderich caught himself developing a crush on Antonio. His first reaction was to put more distance between them, starting to keep their interactions to a purely professional level. He still came to the parties that were held on race weekends because it was expected, in a way, but he made sure to leave as early as possible. Antonio was kind enough to walk him out of the premises, expressing his regret at Roderich’s early leave. More than once, Roderich was tempted to confess to him why it was wiser that he didn’t stay around, but every time, he didn’t dare to change anything about the way Antonio perceived him. What if the knowledge his race engineer had feelings for him that exceeded any measure of propriety lead to a decrease in his performance on the circuit?

Winter came, and the racing season was over. Roderich hardly saw Antonio anymore; just for the driver’s occasional visit to the factory, getting informed about the development process of the car he would drive the following season. During lunch in the factory canteen, Antonio invited everybody at his table to his birthday party in February. There was hardly any option for Roderich to refuse; not with everybody else at the table accepting enthusiastically.

“I’m very glad you’re coming, too,” Antonio told him right before they said goodbye to each other, looking into his eyes with sincerity. Roderich did his best to ignore the warm and fuzzy feeling that spread through his body at hearing Antonio’s words; to no avail. That feeling carried him through the Christmas season and New Year, inducing him to spend way too much time on selecting an appropriate birthday gift. In the end, he settled on pumpkin oil and Traminer wine from his uncle’s vineyard in south-eastern Styria. During the racing season, he had learned Antonio enjoyed gastronomic specialties, even if he used to eat and drink moderately so as not to add too much to his car’s minimum weight.

The party took place in Madrid where Antonio lived. Like most of the guests, Roderich was staying at a hotel nearby, arriving at Antonio’s house barely later than the designated time. Antonio accepted his gift happily, guiding him to the guests who had already arrived.

The party proceeded quite nicely, with rock music blaring from a hi-fi system in the living room, an assortment of tapas the host had made all by himself, as he assured them proudly, and a variety of alcoholic beverages. Roderich drank a little more than usual because the quality of the wine was outstanding and because he was nervous, but it wasn’t nearly enough to get drunk. Nonetheless, the warm and fuzzy feeling while Antonio talked to him made him question his ability to estimate his limit.

Did he sense correctly that Antonio was spending far more time with him than with his other guests, chatting about his family and about how he had always liked cars, even as a little child? It had to be wishful thinking, Roderich decided. Antonio was just a thoughtful host, dividing his time equally between his guests so everyone received the impression they were important to him.

Nonetheless, Roderich stayed far longer this time than for any of the celebrations during the racing season. Talking to Antonio made him forget the time. There was also the wine and the warm feeling that had come to stay, and in the end, Roderich was the last guest to stay. It was five in the morning; he was pretty tired and a little drunk, and when Antonio put an arm around his shoulder, he allowed it to happen.

“Maybe you should go now,” Antonio said.

“Your body language says something else,” Roderich pointed out. He was too tired to be able to monitor his speech in the way he was used to.

“Maybe that’s because I don’t want you to go.”

There was a short silence. Roderich’s heart suddenly beat twice as fast. He started to hope.

“You don’t know what you’re implying,” he said nonetheless. Antonio wasn’t anybody, after all, and homosexuality in sports was still pretty much of a taboo.

“Yeah, yeah, _think of your career_ and all that jazz,” Antonio said. “I know. Stop acting as the race engineer for a little while, will you?” He took Roderich’s chin in one hand. “It’s okay if I kiss you, right?”

Instead of an answer, Roderich leaned closer, bridging the gap between them.

Kissing Antonio was as pleasant as talking to him. Roderich was too tired to get more than mildly aroused, but these things could wait until later. Antonio holding him, kissing him, running his hands through his hair … Kissing back, tangling his hands in Antonio’s curls, nestling his body against Antonio’s on the couch … That was what mattered for the time being.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Roderich exhaled. Keeping a relationship in a workplace environment meant continuous maintenance work. Then again, that was basically his job description.

“Come along, Toni, you can’t stay here for forever,” he said, getting up from the grass. “You need to shower, and we need to see if the others already found out what was wrong with your motor.”

“Yes.” Antonio sighed. He pushed himself up, picking up his helmet as he did so. Roderich extended a hand to him because it looked a little inelegant. Toni accepted the hand, but only used it to keep his balance.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

“Now, Toni, what is it that you’re _actually_ worried about?” Roderich asked as soon as they were back in the pit, having replied to the questions of reporters who had stayed them with a few stock phrases— _huge disappointment; need to wait for a thorough analysis_ —and, of course, after congratulating Jan for coming out fourth. There was a room reserved for the drivers where the two of them were able to talk without disturbance.

“I—,” Antonio started, but an opening door and Eduard’s voice spared him an answer.

“Guys,” he exclaimed. “We located the problem!” Antonio’s attention was easily diverted, not just because of his genuine interest to learn about the reasons for his car’s outage, as Roderich suspected.

“What was it?” Antonio asked, waiting eagerly for Eduard’s reply.

“Part of the insulation chipped, so particles of it got in the oil circuit, damaging the MGU-H, the turbo charger, and the fuel pump.” The MGU-H was an electrical machine connected to the exhaust turbine of the car’s pressure charging system.

“Good job,” Roderich said to Eduard. “Now that we know what the problem was, we can avoid it for the future.” He nudged Antonio in the side, attempting to raise his spirits. Eduard nodded, focusing on his work instead of on the compliment.

“Exchanging the pump won’t be a problem at all, but according to the regulations, we aren’t allowed to use more than five of the other two parts per season. That means we need to check those we have left in order to avoid anything like this from happening again in the remaining races.”

“Good luck! I’m sure you’re going to do a great job on this,” Roderich said.

Under ordinary circumstances, Antonio would have said the same, only more enthusiastically than Roderich. This time, however, he simply nodded with a smile that only _seemed_ to be genuine. Roderich was worried.

“To reiterate my question,” he began as soon as Eduard had left. “What is it that you’re actually worried about?” Antonio took a deep breath, then exhaled.

“Us,” he said bluntly.

“Care to explain?” Roderich sat down on the only chair in the room. He had the impression he needed to sit for this kind of talk. If he was truthful, there had always been a sense of apprehension at the back of his mind; the feeling that _this was too good to be true,_ that he did not deserve this man who was not only capable and passionate about car racing, but also gentle and beautiful and, last but not least, also rich and famous.

“Don’t give me this kind of look,” Antonio complained.

“I don’t even know what kind of look I give.” Roderich raised an eyebrow.

“That look as if you’re mentally preparing yourself for a breakup.” Antonio exhaled again, flopping to the ground next to Roderich’s chair. “I’d never want that to happen.” He leaned his head against Roderich’s thigh, avoiding looking at him while he talked.

“Then what is it that you’re so worried about?” Roderich barely resisted the temptation to act on his promise to pet Antonio’s hair then and there.

“I’m worried I might get kicked out of the team if I continue to underperform. I’m worried it won’t matter that none of my three outages were my own fault. And, most of all, I’m worried you will stay in this team while I leave, and … and …” Antonio breathed loudly, obviously trying to hold back tears. “We have so little spare time. How are we supposed to keep up our relationship if there’s no official reason for us to see each other anymore?”

“Oh Toni.” Roderich slid down from the chair and took Antonio in his arms. “My Toni. _Listen._ Will you listen to me?”

Antonio sniffled, nodding and clinging to Roderich for dear life.

“There has never been any talk of replacing either you or Jan. Both of you are wonderful drivers. If anything, you’ve become _better_ over the years, and the nerves you show me now never got in the way when you needed to control your car.” He took Antonio’s head in both hands. “Okay?”

“Okay.” Antonio sniffled.

“To address your fear we might break up as soon as we’re not on the same team or the same car racing series anymore…” Roderich brushed a few stray locks behind Antonio’s ears, making sure Toni was looking at him. “Don’t worry. We wouldn’t be able to sleep in the same hotels anymore, yes, but we’d spend as much of our spare time with each other as we could. Everyone knows we’re friends by now anyway.”

 _“Friends.”_ Antonio spat the word out.

“I know, darling.” Roderich kissed him, just like that, in a room with an unlocked door. “I’m only doing this because I don’t want to be responsible for destroying your career. If I could singlehandedly make everyone interested in motorsports accepting of sportsmen who aren’t heterosexual, I would. I’d marry you in a heartbeat and wear our ring proudly on my finger.”

“You’d…” Antonio’s features softened. “Did you just … _propose to me?”_

“I guess so.” Roderich coughed nervously. “Though I suppose it would be better if we postponed … _Whew!”_ Antonio hugged him firmly, knocking the wind out of him. “If we postponed this for as long as your career lasts. Uuh … That’s enough, I can’t breathe!”

“Until the end of my career?” Antonio loosened his grip on him instantly. “But … that might be a long time!”

“I sure hope it will be a long time,” Roderich said firmly. “And I hope you’ll be as eager to spend your life with me then as you are now. Because I will always love you.” He looked straight into Antonio’s eyes. “I will always, _always_ love you. No matter what happens. Please remember this.”

“I will remember.” There it was at last, Antonio’s genuine smile. “And I will always love you, too.”

“Thank you.” Roderich returned his smile.

This time, Antonio didn’t need a helping hand to pull him off the ground. Instead, he helped Roderich back on his feet.

“Shall we?” Antonio placed his hand on the door handle, pushing it wide open. “I’m sure Eduard and the others are already waiting for us.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I love SpAus and I enjoy watching F1. That’s how this fic came to be. Sorry it took so long, Rina!
> 
> Of course I did some research, but I’m not an expert on the technical side of F1 racing nonetheless. Please bear with me (and feel free to tell me) if you are and notice mistakes. In any case, Antonio’s outage is based on an actual outage of Lewis Hamilton’s Mercedes in 2016.


End file.
